


Bedside Manner

by Cacoethic



Series: For Your Ghost [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Paralysis, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cacoethic/pseuds/Cacoethic
Summary: and I didn't believe them / when they told me that there was no saving you





	Bedside Manner

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends... a few notes before we begin. i think theyre roughly 17/18 so i did add the underage tag though it feels weird !! also i struggled with rating E vs M, but this story is only about 20% smut and its very mild so. M we are. thanks to all who commented asking for a reunion scene, yall are literally the reason i wrote this so quickly hahaaa. ps no beta pls let me know if there are glaring errors. enjoy!

In his dreams Akira is always running away with a smirk firmly planted on his face. Akechi’s legs work here, up to a certain point, until they inevitably falter and he is left behind. Every dream features Akira in some way or another, as the focal point or a minor character Akechi can’t seem to take his eyes off of. He misses the dreamless sleep that a constant morphine high gave him; now that they’re weaning him off he awakens in agony multiple times a night, Akira’s face fresh on his mind.

Since Futaba last visited no one has come to see him in over a week, not even Sae whose visits had been like clockwork in their regularity. Akechi loses count of the days, afraid to turn on the TV for fear of seeing something he can’t remove from his brain. He’s always been a coward, always been chasing after Akira in some perverted attempt to _beat_ him, to be the _best_ as if that matters for anything anymore.

When he wakes from a nightmare in which Akira, far ahead of him this time, simply disappears, the clock next to him reads 4:13 AM. He’s slept a solid three hours this time, better than he has since the morphine control started. Clicking the light on using a switch by his bedside Akechi attempts to still his rapidly beating heart. Despite his emotional hang-ups the worst of his withdrawal seems to be passing, no longer does his body shake without his control and he finds himself able to eat the subpar hospital food without having to force himself too much.

The nurse who assists him with daily physical therapy reassures him he’s recovering extremely well. The doctors he sees point out that the injury they cannot see appears to be fairly low on spine, a good thing he learns, though they cannot say anything with certainty given the nature of the wound. One doctor dared to posit early on that his mind was the main thing holding him back, after which he threw such a terrible fit that he never had to see her again. No one dares be too optimistic, no one dares to tell him he’ll regain control of his legs even when he notes with delight that he can feel his toes the afternoon after Futaba’s visit. Control seems just out of his reach, the exercises his nurse puts him through only causing immeasurable pain that can no longer be masked by drugs.

In some ways the paralysis changes nothing. Akechi has never felt at home in his body, has only ever taken pride in his carefully cultivated image which relies less on his body and more on his attitude. Just as any good actor can make changes to their body to suit a role, his body exists merely as a husk for his mind and a tool for his revenge. With Shidou being chewed up and presumably, eventually, spit out by the Japanese justice system, both his mind and body have no use. He is waiting to recover so he can die, waiting for Akira to return so he can tie up every loose end and apologize for everything he’s ever done.

These thoughts form a loop that torment him from morning to night. Awake in the wee morning hours now, he props himself up using his arms (at full strength now) and turns on the light beside him so he can stare blankly at a book with at least an attempt to create the façade of ‘reading’. He’s already read this book, which Sae gave him on her last visit what seems like an eternity ago. It’s a young adult novel – Akechi smiled when he first saw it, imagining Sae at the bookstore trying to figure out what a kid like Akechi could possibly like. The pages contained drama, angst and heartbreak but nothing he’s ever read touched him as much as the sheepish smile on his coworker’s face when she handed it off. Dare he refer to her, even internally, as his ‘friend’? Friend to a murderer was not a title Sae deserved, nor one he imagined she’d desire.

Why did she stop coming? Why did they all stop coming? He willed them away and when they at last complied he was still the loser, just like always. Akechi doesn’t know what lie the phantom thieves have fed the media about his sudden disappearance, whether he’s dead or sick or taking a break from the limelight, but he’s not interested in that kind of attention anymore. No, what he wants the most is not the cry of an adoring fan from a crowd of friendly faces but rather the touch of Akira’s hand on his forehead. To regain feeling in his legs just so the brush of Akira’s fingertips on his thigh could be _real_ , so the lower half of his body could come back to life and….

Akechi finds himself blushing alone in his hospital room as though some external entity can hear his very thoughts and would chastise him for them. Lonely minds conjure up such fantastic stories… Akechi doesn’t deserve the dopamine he receives for imagining Akira’s gentle touch. And yet as he settles down with the light still on to ward off negative thoughts, the ghost sensation lulls him back to sleep.

When Akechi wakes with a start again, it’s thanks to a nurse clumsily depositing chocolate at his bedside. It’s one he’s never seen before, and she squeaks and runs out before he can become Goro Akechi, Ace Detective and give her a prepared fake smile. It’s been quite some time since he had to attempt such a feat and he finds himself wondering how he managed to pull it off for so long. Now it only makes him tired. Fully awake at a reasonable hour, he lazily reaches for the chocolate just as his door opens once again.

“Good morning Gor- oh. Where did that come from?” his regular nurse seems alarmed rather than happy for him. After explaining, she confiscates the chocolate and reassures him the nurse will be reprimanded. “It’s Valentine’s Day and you’re quite popular. I’ve had to scare more than one young lady away from your door! But it’s not professional. Sorry hon, I can’t let you eat something I don’t know the contents of.”

He hadn’t really planned on eating the chocolates anyway. Thoughts of last Valentine’s Day flooded his memory, girls fighting at the chance to fill his locker to the point that he left halfway through the day. That started brand new rumors, wondering who the lucky woman that had a date with Detective Akechi could be. Reflecting on his old self became more exhausting as each day passed. Valentine’s Day was never a good time. When he received nothing in the past, it served to destroy his pathetic self-worth even further. When he received a flood of chocolate and gifts and cards and confessions, it disgusted him to no end. The problem was with him all along, after all, but he’d never seen it as clearly as he did during his time in the hospital. He’d always been the brooding type, and with an empty schedule there was not much to do but ruminate.

Gesturing to the wheelchair she brought every morning, the nurse allowed Akechi to prop himself up with his arms before helping him get in. “I bought you some chocolates as a reward today actually!” she mentioned idly as they made their way through the plain white hall as per routine. Obvious hoping for a reaction, she peered around to check his face and frowned when there was none. “Were you hoping for some from someone else? Like that little orange-haired girl that came a while ago?”

His expression soured severely but the nurse was absentminded enough to miss this particular detail. Akechi did not want to be reminded about Futaba, about her promises of redemption before walking out of his life without a hint of when she’d return. Had she told the others not to visit him? Even Sae? Though he knew it was illogical, his brain continued to flood with every possible scheme Futaba could have carried out with him none the wiser. Akira in juvie? Ridiculous. Akira was undoubtedly free as a bird, having grown tired of Akechi’s melodramatics just as the rest of his friend group had become. He certainly couldn’t be blamed if that was the case.

The nurse carried on in the background, animatedly describing her kitchen last night as her daughter attempted to make her first homemade chocolate. It was undoubtedly an endearing story, one he almost cared to hear given the relationship he’d formed with this woman over the course of the past month and a half. Alas he could not put a stop to the thoughts, couldn’t dispel them even as they reached his exercise room and she began to properly put him through hell. The pain dulled his mind and even felt like relief at points. Ten minutes in with the nurse still chatting away without his input, on a whim Akechi attempts to pump his right ankle. Flexes it a second time, finds that it obeys him. She notices too, nearly drops the leg she’s attempting to stretch before gently setting it down and pulling him into a hug.

“You did it!” her cry comes too close to his ear but the blood in his head is pumping loudly enough that it’s mere background noise. “I knew you could, I believed in you,” Akechi hears her over the noise of his head and wonders when (wonders _if_ ) someone last said that to him. Aiming for a bigger goal as she unintentionally smothers him in her chest, he tries to jerk the leg she’d just been stretching. His muscles don’t react, chasing excitement with immediate disappointment. It shows on his face, which the nurse picks up on as she backs off. “We’re done for today,” she’s as sweet as ever. “I’ll take you back to your room and give you that chocolate, then I’ll tell your doctor about the progress you made! Be proud of yourself!” She exclaims the last bit as an afterthought as he’s deposited unceremoniously back into the chair and they’re on their way.

When the door to his room at the end of the long hall opens he notices immediately something is amiss. His bed has been made and covered in an embarrassing number of _rose petals_. The nurse behind him sighs dramatically. “Can’t leave this place unguarded for a minute. When I find who did this I’ll just kill her, I will! On the job and everything.”

“Sorry,” on cue a familiar voice cuts through her anger. “It was me, actually. They told me I could wait in here.” Akira steps back from the window in the corner, his presence clear as day now that’s he’s announced himself. Akechi can’t find the words to respond but luckily his nurse has plenty.

“Oh my,” she’s at once taken aback and excited. Akechi can’t recall if the two have met before, can’t bring himself to unglue his eyes from the floor or perhaps melt into it. While it’s nice to not be in his hospital bed for once, he wishes their reunion had waited until he could walk again. This line of thinking ends before it begins and is drowned out by the adrenaline dumping into his brain branded only with AKIRA it’s AKIRA he’s here AKIRA is here in my room he’s mine he’s here he’s mine and – “Who exactly gave you permission to be back here? And who are you?”

“I’m his friend,” Akira answers cooly, crossing the room towards Akechi who can physically feel sweat accumulating on his palms. “Did you miss me, Goro?” the sound of his name on Akira’s lips saps the life out of him. He barely manages to nod before he can stop himself; the gesture does not go unnoticed judging by Akira’s grin and the nurses’ grip on his wheelchair loosening.

“Do you want me to help you into bed?” she asks quietly, mother hen instincts quieting after Akechi’s admission that Akira is in fact not a stranger and does in fact belong in this room. Again unable to speak, Akechi can only shake his head ‘no’ before she lets him go. Planting a kiss on his forehead in a gesture of intimacy she’s never displayed before, the nurse leaves him with a “let me know when you’re ready for that chocolate!”

When the door clicks shut Akira dares to come even closer, dares to reach out his hand and touch the spot the nurse kissed moments before. “Jealous?” Akechi finds words only to be nasty, only capable of speech when he needs to lash out. Instead of denying it or growing angry, Akira smiles.

“It’s so good to see you,” his expression is serene. The fingers on Akechi’s forehead go to tousle his hair delicately. The adrenaline from before, borne from being able to move a part of his body he thought might be permanently lost is nothing compared to the rush he gets from Akira’s skin on his own. “I thought about you every day.”

“Me too,” Akechi whispers. Only then does Akira falter. Unused to honesty from the brunette, neither know how to carry on. Searching for a conversation topic, anything to keep Akira talking to him, anything to stop him from leaving again, Akechi knows he must address the elephant in the room. “Futaba… said you were in jail.” Unsure if he wants admission or denial, Akechi looks down at his legs once again.

“For a bit, yeah,” Akira’s reply is shaky but his fingers are firm as he guides them under Akechi’s chin, forcing him to meet the other’s eyes. “I’m so glad you waited for me,” he bends down as Akechi feels the anger well up.

His mouth is full of protests that he did not in fact _wait_ and that really it’s lucky for Akira he got out so early or Akechi would have been long gone, all of which never makes it out of his mouth. Instead Akira covers those treacherous lips with his own as if damming off a river, damning Akechi to a life of happiness he doesn’t deserve. Demonstrating the dexterity he’s gained in his arms since the incident, Akechi needily pulls Akira’s body closer until the boy is practically in his lap. An idea dawns on them both at once, and Akira walks him the few steps to the bed before pulling him up and depositing him messily on the rose petals.

Akechi’s loss of muscle mass has made him light enough for Akira to lift handily, but he’s sloppy in his hastiness. The bed bleeds rose petals as Akira hoists himself up and they attempt to share the space for one between the two of them. “I know this is cheesy,” Akira whispers into the brunette’s ear as he slowly wraps his arm around the anxious boy. “But fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Akechi admits consciously, intentionally, committing fully to the delusion that Akira could sincerely love and desire him. At this point, given the dreams he’s been having, even having Akira in his general proximity is like paradise. It’s not fair that he had to live his life thus far without the love and affection of someone as incredible as Akira. Someone who would sacrifice himself to save his friends, and not in a last-ditch attempt at salvation like Akechi had done before this whole thing spiraled out of control.

“It’s so nice to hear you say that,” Akira’s grip around his middle grows tighter. He’s taking care to keep his movements above the waist, whether out of consideration of Akechi’s condition or in an attempt to convey his pure intentions. This train of thought is interrupted by hot breath just behind his ear. “I thought you’d push me away again,” Akira breathes a sigh of relief that raises the hair on the back of Akechi’s neck. Already Akechi feels himself riling up, a rage he can never seem to control rising at the idea of Akira viewing him as a _burden_ or as _predictable_.

A nip on his neck brings Akechi so far out of his element he cannot retaliate. Akira draws back to gauge his reaction and, evidently pleased, returns to suck on the spot. Akechi squirms, constantly aware that fidgeting with his ankles and toes won’t grant him the strength to kick Akira off. Not that he wants to. Keeping his lips firmly planted on Goro’s neck, Akira rolls on top of him before breaking contact to cup the other boy’s face in his hands. “You’re beautiful,” Akira whispers delicately. His lover flushes past the spot Akira marked on his neck, feels the words resonate all the way down to his toes. The expression he’s got on resonates especially with a particular spot that Akira is currently resting his body weight on. With a mix of horror and delight he realizes two things at once: firstly, Akira is _definitely_ rubbing back and forth on his crotch and lastly the boy detective is more than capable of getting an erection post-injury. Akira notices the latter milliseconds after Goro himself becomes aware. The smirk that never seems to leave him for long returns in a shockingly erotic way. Joker on top of him, grinning like he’s going in for the kill, sends all the blood in his body straight to his stupid dick.

“You like when I compliment you?” the scales tip in Akira’s favour and it’s over. Goro is too far gone to fight it, only raises his hand to seek out Akira’s member and return the favour. “That’s sweet of you,” the dark-haired boy drops the tough act and softens, guiding Goro’s hand to his own hardness. “You’re such a good boy.”

Goro brightens, tries his best to live up to this assertion. What he lacks in skill he tries to make up for in energy, frantically fumbling with the other boy’s zipper before Akira has to help him once again. Once his pants are unzipped Goro can clearly see the outline of his cock, at once alarming and arousing to the point that he favours inaction over reaching for it. Akira guides him again, lowers his underwear and presses his member into Goro’s open hand. He swears he can feel Akira’s heartbeat, the pulse of this sweet rhythm pressed up against his needy palm.

Just as he’s given Goro this opportunity he takes it away, shimmying his hips back to release Goro’s aching dick. Wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital gown, the wet spot his precum has created would be apparent from a helicopter above their room. Expecting Akira to ridicule him he rushes to cover himself somehow, his hands all he has to offer. Instead Akira lifts up the hospital gown and positions Goro’s legs just so before clapping his hands together.

“Thanks for the meal!” he declares cheekily before lowering his head and attempting to take Goro in his mouth at all once. The warmth almost does him in – the suction that follows brings him to the edge.

“A-A-Akira,” Goro wills himself to be quiet, quite the contrast from his difficulty in vocalizing before. Of course his mouth doesn’t obey, and with Akira’s arms now pinning his hands at his sides he has no way to shut himself up. His moans come out choked and desperate; he becomes dazed, unsure if the word “please” is escaping his mouth or merely a silent internal chant. When he at least releases directly into Akira’s mouth an unbelievable gulp comes from below. Unable to move his legs and too weak in his arms to move, Goro can only lie there waiting for Akira to make the next move.

“That was so hot,” Akira raises his head and inches between the other boy’s legs, one hand coming to rest on Goro’s cheek and the other tugging frantically at himself. He leans in to rest his head in the crook of the brunette’s neck, whispering praises all the while. “You’re perfect,” Akira proclaims, accidentally rutting his hips against the thigh of the boy beneath him. The sensation is muted for Goro, though apparently quite a treat for Akira, who continues to rut against him with such ferocity that it can no longer be excused as an accident. Deflated from his own orgasm, Goro soaks up all the praise Akira has to offer without answering.

“Fuck, you’re so-” Akira has never before been so vulnerable in front of him, panting and sweaty in the throes of pleasure. “I love you so much,” the message is nearly lost in an inaudible whisper into the spot on his neck Akira marked before. “I love you Goro, love you love you love you-” the trail of words is cut off by an audible gasp and shiver as cum splatters high up on the chest of the boy beneath him. Covered in a mixture of their cum, Goro closes his eyes and feels an unnamed emotion well up inside of him.

Akira gingerly grabs the tissues handily stored by the bed and cleans them both off; starting, impractically, with Goro before moving to clean himself up and pull up his jeans. “Sorry about your – gown? Thing?” Akira apologizes meekly before searching the room for a spare. At the very least, Goro is able to take the gown off himself after directing Akira to the cabinet near the foot of his bed. He’s been blessed with a large hospital room, undoubtedly thanks to Sae’s influence. Maybe all hospital rooms are like this? It seems unlikely, Goro decides as Akira hands him a fresh gown and crumples his up before tossing it to the side.

“So,” Goro fumbles for words, still basking in the afterglow of what they’ve done. Akira returns to lie at his side, reaching anew for Goro and helping him smooth down the new gown. “You were arrested.”

“Yeah,” Akira admits lazily. “Sae got me out though. It sucked but, y’know, now my parents can say they were always right about me!” the laugh that escapes him is harsh and heavy, never reaching his eyes. Lying on his back, too tired to turn over properly, Goro mentally interrogates the ceiling. _What was it like? Were you lonely? Are you free for good? Did you miss me? Did they hurt you? Did you really mean it when you said you love me?_

“You’re thinking too much,” Akira asserts, back to his devil-may-care attitude. The glimpse Goro got into the other Akira seemed like a passing fantasy, keeping him from asking all the questions on his mind. “But that’s what I love about you.”

_Belonging_ , Goro finds himself musing as Akira’s arms pull the pair together. _That’s the emotion from before. Belonging._ Within minutes Akira is snoring, presumably dead tired from whatever ordeal he faced prior to reaching this room. Goro himself is exhausted, having done more physical activity in the last hour than he’d done in the nearly two months preceding. Closing his eyes, he remembers vaguely a moment from months before; the smell of curry from downstairs at the coffee shop as Akira’s body envelopes his is unmistakable in the moments before the boy drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> there we are... i imagine akechi’s gunshot wound as being in the lumbar area (like L3-L5 but who cares right) meaning mostly hips/knees affected allowing some movement of toes and ankle. plus his dick aint broke, which is like, important for The Story and all. also switching from akechi (without akira’s presence) to goro (with akira’s presence) is on purpose but i don’t know if you can tell or if I just seem like a fool, o well.  
> this series had a The Antlers theme, and i discovered with delight a month or so ago that every song on their album Hospice has an alternative title... the song Kettering, which the middle work was named for, has 'Bedside Manner' as its alternate. i think its good cause of the duality of akechi, or something
> 
> thanks for reading! comments appreciated as i am vain


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